


i just kind of want to be near you

by ghosttotheparty



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Cuddling, First Kiss, I Love You, Kissing, M/M, Realisation, ceilings are a recurring theme just go with it, generally very soft, idiot in love, its weird idk what im doing, just holding each other, remembering, some part are kinda like a poem?, theyre very in love, troy likes playing w abeds hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29608587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghosttotheparty/pseuds/ghosttotheparty
Summary: And then that night, as he replayed those other nights in his head, replaying Abed’s soft voice asking to sleep with him, trying to feel Abed’s head on his chest, trying to remember the feeling of his fingers in Abed’s hair, he came to the ground-breaking, earth-shaking, painfully obvious revelation that Troy is entirely, completely, hopelessly in love with Abed.
Relationships: Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 9
Kudos: 97





	i just kind of want to be near you

Something in Troy changed while he was at air conditioning repair school, but it has nothing to do with… well, everything that happened at air conditioning repair school. Which was a lot. 

He’s not sure he would be able to explain it out loud if he had to, or if he wanted to. So he keeps it under wraps, makes sure that not even Abed can pick up on it, on the slight, subtle, ground-breaking, earth-shaking revelation that broke Troy in pieces overnight.

The revelation that occurred at approximately one thirty in the morning, while Troy layed in bed, staring at the ceiling, with nothing but the sound of air whirring under his window (he was growing to loathe air) and his thoughts to keep him company. He’d gone to bed at about ten, he had every night since arriving. But, like every night, he’d stayed there, on his back or on his side or on his stomach, squirming and turning and flopping and rolling in the dark, too sensitive to the fabric of the blankets or too cold. (The A.C. in his room was like a cheap hotel’s. Fucking freezing. Looking back, he supposes he could have fixed it so he wasn’t constantly shivering, but he didn’t think of it then.)

He’d been thinking about where he’d rather be. In his bunk bed, looking up to the familiar ceiling that he could just barely see when his eyes got used to the dark. Listening to Abed’s familiar breathing. Troy liked listening to his breathing. It was like Abed, even when he was practically unconscious, had a pattern: slow, steady, careful inhale, and a sharp, heavy exhale. 

A few nights Troy had felt his breath on him, on his chest and neck. He doesn’t think he’d ever slept better. (And he certainly hasn’t slept like that since going to a.c. school.) Troy had wrapped his arms around a pillow, remembering, squeezing his eyes closed even though it was the same darkness whether they were open or shut, trying to hold on to the memory. Every time they’d slept together, twice in Abed’s bed and once in Troy’s, Abed had carefully placed his head on Troy’s shoulder, sliding an arm across him and holding on to his waist, and Troy had gently run a hand through his hair, caressing his head as Abed’s breaths evened out, absentmindedly tracing lines up Abed’s arm until he drifted off. 

The night they’d slept in Abed’s bed, Abed had asked him too. Troy remembers how he looked that evening, quiet during dinner, wincing slightly as the forks scraped the glass plates Annie had picked out. Tired. _Exhausted_. He’d excused himself quietly when Troy and Annie had begun to clean up and Troy had let him go to do what he needed. When he’d entered the blanket fort, Abed was in bed, covered in his blankets and he moved slightly when he heard Troy. Troy changed quietly, not wanting to disturb him in case he had a headache or was feeling sensitive. 

“Troy?” Abed had said quietly as Troy was pulling on his pyjama pants. 

“Yeah, buddy?” he’d responded softly, and Abed was quiet, so Troy waited, standing and watching as though Abed was going to pull the blankets back and use sign language. 

“Will you sleep with me?” He said it weakly, carefully. 

“...What?” 

“I need…” His face was still covered, hidden from view, but Troy knew him well enough to read his voice. Nervous. Hesitant. “I need… pressure.” Troy had stood there for a second, unsure of what to do, before simply saying, “Okay.” and gingerly lifting Abed’s blankets to climb in next to him. Abed seemed to be able to tell he didn’t know what he was doing (Abed seems to be able to read Troy like a fucking book), because he pressed hishand to Troy’s chest and layed him down, leaning over him to tug at the edge of the blanket, and then rested on his chest, and when Troy looked down, tilting his head to an angle, he could see Abed’s eyes shut. 

That was when Troy had slowly slid his hand into Abed’s hair, scratching his scalp and hearing Abed’s breath change. He’d stopped, looking down, whispered a quiet “Okay?” and Abed nodded. 

That happened once more. 

And then another time, late at night, Troy woke up to Abed saying his voice quietly in the dark, and when he asked what was wrong, Abed said in a fragile voice, “I need you.”

“Do you want me to come down?” Troy had asked, sitting up, fully awake, and Abed hadn’t answered, just tossed aside his blankets and started climbing up the ladder to Troy, who moved toward the wall, making space for Abed by lifting the blanket and holding his arm out for him to lay on.

He’d fallen asleep with his fingers tangled in Abed’s hair and Abed’s face in his neck, his breath warm and steady against his skin. Somehow it grounded Troy. It felt real.

Anyway. 

That night in Troy’s dorm, he’d clutched the pillow to his chest, maybe hoping it could feel something like Abed, when he realised how often he really thought about him. 

During class, between classes in the hallways, during lunch, after classes, as he went to bed, when he woke up. Everything reminded him of Abed, Abed, Abed. 

And then that night, as he replayed those other nights in his head, replaying Abed’s soft voice asking to sleep with him, trying to feel Abed’s head on his chest, trying to remember the feeling of his fingers in Abed’s hair, he came to the ground-breaking, earth-shaking, painfully obvious revelation that Troy is entirely, completely, hopelessly in love with Abed.

It was a mess of feelings that night, a hurricane with winds made of relief that _finally_ everything makes sense and he understands now why he’s alwaysalwaysalways thinking about him and why Abed takes up so much space in his mind, and a downpour of _Fuck I’m in love with my best friend_. He’d fallen asleep with his arms still around the pillow, with a tear stained face.

\---

He’s almost sure Abed noticed it when he got back, though Abed didn’t do or say anything that would suggest it. Their hug was brief, and if he’s honest, Troy hadn’t been planning on hugging him. He’d planned on ignoring the feelings for as long as possible, on just pretending they’re not there at all, like everything is normal (as normal as they can be with TroyandAbed).

But he couldn’t do it. 

He hugged him.

And exploded on the inside, and he wonders if Abed felt what he felt, that blissful, magical thing in his chest and stomach and lungs like glowing, effervescent butterflies. If he did, Abed didn’t do anything to betray these feelings to Troy. 

After dinner (chatting with Annie and Abed, trying not to stare at Abed too long), he excused himself to brush his teeth, change into his pyjamas, and unpack, which is where he is, in his own room instead of the blanket fort (which he was nervous about at first; what if Abed needs him again and Troy isn’t close enough to help him? What if Abed gets lonely?), unfolding and folding, examining every piece of clothing before putting it away. He unpacks the clothes he didn’t even wear at the a.c. repair school. They only wore their uniforms, those dreadful grey jumpsuits (which Troy managed to convince them to abandon as mandatory). 

There’s a tentative knock at his door as he shuts a drawer, and he turns, half-expecting Annie with ice cream or something, but it’s Abed, and Troy’s heart leaps and dives simultaneously. Troy’s door is already open, and Abed is leaning against the door frame, a sort of casual James Dean lean that looks unintentional but who knows, and Troy wonders how long he’s been standing there.

“Hey,” Troy says, smiling.

“Hi,” Abed says, and his voice isn’t low like his Don Draper, but he still sounds… off. Troy can read Abed better than anyone else (except Annie, who’s learned a lot since moving in with them), but he still can’t quite get it. It’s like reading a long word and being able to understand a sentence with it in it but not knowing what it means by itself. Or something.

“What’s up?” Troy asks, because Abed just stands there, looking at him. Troy can feel himself heat up under his eyes, like somehow Abed just knows. Troy pulls another jumpsuit out of his bag and makes a face at it as he folds it.

“Not much. How’s Britta?”

“What?” Troy almost drops the jumpsuit, looking up abruptly.

“Britta?” Abed says. “You’re dating now, right?”

“Uh--” Troy turns away, finishing the fold and opening his drawer, hiding his burning face. “No, we actually decided that uhm… That maybe a relationship isn’t for us.” It was partially mutual, but Troy couldn’t help but feel guilty as he told her “There’s someone out there for you, like, romantically. But I don’t think it’s me.” 

When he looks back, Abed’s head is tilted and his brows are furrowed looking partly confused and partly concerned and partly whatever it is that Troy can’t quite place. 

“But I thought you both like each other,” Abed says, almost resolute.

“We do!” Troy clarifies. “Just as friends.”

“Oh.” 

He’s quiet as Troy folds a pair of pants, and when Troy looks back to him, he’s looking at the ground, biting his lip, looking like he’s thinking.

“What’s wrong?” Troy asks, unable to stop himself even though he’s almost certain that Abed’s figured it all out. 

“I just…” Abed looks up and then away. “I just kind of want to be near you.”

“Oh.” Troy tries not to react visibly. “Okay.” Abed still isn’t looking at him, and Troy wonders. “Do you want to sit on my bed while I finish unpacking?”

Abed nods and shuts the door behind him and he goes to the bed, sitting cross-legged and looking at Troy, who smiles and turns away as he folds.

“So what’s this about wanting to cut off Jeff’s arm?” he asks, turning his back to Abed as he tries to fit a shirt into the drawer neatly, but he gives up and shoves it in, folding the hem in so the drawer closes all the way. 

“That was Evil Abed. He’s gone now. Jeff changed his mind and he’s gone back to the darkest timeline.”

“The darkest timeline…” The drawer finally closes and he turns to look at Abed. “You mean from the night Jeff tried to use the dice to decide who got the pizza?”

“The die. And yes.” 

“But Jeff convinced him to not be evil?”

“He gave another Winger Speech during court and Evil Abed was there and heard it. It wasn’t directed at Evil Abed, it was more to the general audience, but it still struck a chord I guess. It even got Pierce to call out someone using ‘gay’ in a derogatory way.”

“Huh. Good for him.”

“Evil Abed, Jeff, or Pierce?”

“All of the above.”

He hears Abed’s “Hmmm” laugh, and smiles even though Abed can’t see him. He has that effect on him. 

“You said you’re the air conditioning messiah?” Abed asks after a moment, and Troy spins around, folding a shirt against his chest. 

“Oh my god, yeah, I totally forgot to tell you.” Troy tosses the shirt into the drawer, not bothering to try and shut it. “There’s this whole prophecy about ‘the Truest Repairman,’ and it’s _me_. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Not really.”

Troy looks at Abed in confusion. He’d assumed he’d be super stoked about a _prophecy_.

“I get it,” Abed explains, his hands in his lap, looking so cute it’s making Troy’s heart ache. “You’re really good at it, so it makes sense that it’s you.”

“Thanks, buddy,” Troy says softly. 

“I missed you,” Abed says abruptly, like the thought just occurred to him, and Troy swallows, unable to stop smiling at him, and Abed is beginning to smile back, that little subtle, Mona Lisa smile he does when it’s real. 

“I missed you too, Abed.”

He turns away to close the drawer and places his bag on top of the dresser after stooping down to pick it up. He pulls out the textbook he’d gotten ( _Understanding Boat Refrigeration and Air Conditioning Systems_ ) and sets it gently on the dresser, trying not to drop it.

“Troy?” 

“Yeah?” He turns to look at Abed over his shoulder.

“I love you.”

Troy’s brain short-circuits and his breath stutters in his throat, and he’s sure Abed can hear it because it sounds like a gasp, and he turns to face him.

He isn’t sure what to do, and he’s thinking hard about it (Kiss him? Say it back? Smile?) but he’s taking too long, and Abed’s face is changing again, so he takes a breath and stops thinking. 

He steps forward and holds his hand out. 

Abed looks at it for a second and then looks up to Troy’s eyes, his own pausing at Troy’s chest, surely looking for his other hand, and then he holds his own out, letting his fingers slide into Troy’s and Troy tugs, pulling him off the bed and into his arms. 

Abed stumbles into him, catching himself by holding Troy’s waist, and even though they’ve hugged and held each other plenty of times, Troy feels his whole body combust, and he wraps his arms around Abed’s neck. Abed is still at first, uncertain and hesitant, but he relaxes after a second, sliding his hands around Troy’s waist to wrap his arms around him, pulling him closer and he takes a deep breath, and Troy can almost see him closing his eyes. 

Troy’s heart aches, and he closes his own eyes, burying his face between his forearm and Abed’s neck, feeling his nose and lips just barely brush his warm skin.

“I love you too,” he murmurs after a minute (or thirty), and Abed’s arms shift, holding him tighter, and Troy hears him exhale shakily. They sway slightly as Abed steps closer, holding onto each other, and Troy doesn’t ever want to let go. This is perfect. 

Troy shifts a hand to touch Abed’s hair, caressing the back of Abed’s head, gently scratching and tugging his hair the way he used to whenever Abed fell asleep with him, and Abed lets out a small noise, somewhere between a whimper and a hum. 

Troy tightens his arm around his neck and his lips accidentally brush Abed’s skin. 

He feels Abed’s hand press against him as they do, feels his fingers spread over the small of his back, and even though he really, really, really tried, even though he latched so many locks over his heart, he thinks maybe the locks are made of paper, and he gives up. Because Abed’s skin is _right there_ , and he’s so warm. 

So he kisses him. 

It’s slow, and soft, and gentle, and he hears Abed take in a breath and feels his hand press into him again, holding the small of his back until they’re pressed together completely, like a butterfly’s wings when it’s not flying. When he pulls his lips away, Abed tilts his head slightly, his eyes still closed, so he does it again, and then again, and again, slowly and softly like Abed might break. Troy’s hand holds the back of Abed’s head, his fingers tangled in his hair, and when his lips reach his jaw, he slides his other hand up, over the back of Abed’s neck (and Abed _shiver_ , so slightly Troy almost doesn’t notice. But he does.) into his hair. It’s always so soft. 

Troy pulls away just enough to look at Abed’s face. 

His eyes are closed like Troy had thought, and he looks like he’s asleep, relaxed and peaceful, and Troy’s mouth curves into a smile without him telling it to. His hands slip over his neck, pulling him in until their foreheads are pressed together, and he trembles as Abed’s hands slide around him, over his waist and up his chest until he’s holding Troy’s neck, and his hands are warm. 

Troy slides a hand back into his hair and slips the other to his face, softly brushing his thumb over his cheekbone, and Abed sighs, tilting his head and turning his face into Troy’s hand. 

“I love you so much.” He doesn’t mean to say them, but Troy breathes the words, like they’re only for Abed, like the rest of the world has no right to them, and Abed’s eyes open. His eyes land on Troy’s mouth, like he’s trying to find the words in the air, and they go up Troy’s eyes, flicking back and forth between them, like he’s looking, searching for something. 

Abed looks back at Troy’s mouth and Troy can hear his own heartbeat, can feel it pounding in his veins. He wants to close his eyes, but he can’t look away, not as Abed’s smile comes back, not as his hand slips over his jaw, not as his thumb just barely brushes over Troy’s lip, and his eyes lock on Abed’s. His eyes always look so gentle, always so dark and shiny. 

Troy doesn’t even realise how close they are until Abed’s finger isn’t touching his lip anymore, until he feels Abed’s breath on his mouth.

And everything makes sense.

Why Abed was so quiet as Troy said goodbye before leaving, why Abed always sought Troy out during bad days, why everything always comes so _easy_ with them, like they’ve existed together over and over and over and over, like their souls are familiar. 

_Oh._

And Abed’s lips are finally on his, and it’s _Abed_ , not the Inspector or the girl from Kickpuncher or any of the other characters they play in the Dreamatorium. It’s Abed and it’s real, and it’s fucking magical. 

Troy’s eyes flutter shut and he gasps, tilting his head and sliding his hands to hold Abed’s face, reveling in the way Abed hums quietly, in the way Abed’s hands tighten on his neck like he’s scared to let go. Troy’s hands are shaking, but Abed’s feel so steady, so sure, like always. 

Troy wraps his arms around Abed’s neck, standing up on his tiptoes, and Abed _smiles_ against his mouth, gently biting Troy’s lip, and Troy’s legs almost give out under him. 

“Shit,” Troy gasps when they part, his eyes still shut, his arms still around Abed. Abed’s fingers hold his face, and he can feel Abed’s eyes on him, so he looks. 

Abed is smiling, _beaming_ , and he brushes his thumb over Troy’s lip again, gazing at his mouth fondly. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Abed whispers, looking into Troy’s eyes. 

“Do it again,” Troy breathes.

Abed kisses him harder, holding his face between his hands, squishing his cheeks, and something changes. The air changes colour and all the longing and yearning float to the surface, and the kiss turns desperate, Troy’s hands shifting from his neck to his hair to his shoulders, gripping him like a lifeline, and Abed’s move from his face to his neck to his back and his waist, coming to a stop at his hips as Abed licks between his lips and Troy’s jaw drops.

Abed pulls away for a gasp before leaning back in, kissing him breathlessly and desperately, tilting his head, sliding his tongue into Troy’s mouth, biting his lip, humming, knowing exactly what to do to make Troy’s knees weak, to make his heart pound. 

Abed pulls at his hips, tugging him closer and a sound escapes Troy, a small whimper, and he realises his eyes are burning. He squeezes them shut, drawing Abed’s lower lip into his mouth, gently biting and sucking and 

tryingnottocry  
tryingnottocry  
tryingnottocry.

It doesn’t work. 

Abed pulls away and Troy tries to catch his mouth again, leaning forward and opening his eyes, whining softly, but Abed doesn’t let him, looking into his eyes with his brows furrowed. He lifts a hand and gently wipes under Troy’s eyes.

“Why are you crying?” he asks softly, moving the hand on his waist so he’s rubbing the base of Troy’s back.

“I’m just--” Troy chokes out, shaking his head, moving to hold Abed’s face. “Relieved,” he says after a second, after a deep breath, looking into Abed’s concerned eyes. “I thought… I thought it was just me.”

The corners of Abed’s mouth quirk into a quick, subtle smile, and he shakes his head. 

“Not just you,” he says quietly, leaning down and kissing him again. 

“Do you wanna sleep here tonight?” Troy asks when they part, his voice soft, and he opens his eyes to Abed nodding. 

“Should I turn off the light?” Abed asks, and Troy nods, reluctantly letting go of him and Abed goes to flip the switch. Troy waits, standing at the edge of the bed, watching in awe, forgetting about sleep, and Abed looks at him and smiles before turning off the light. 

There’s a small streak of light coming from the window, and Troy can just barely see Abed coming toward him, and Abed’s hands land on his shoulders, feeling, looking, searching for him in the dark. His hands slide up to his face and Abed leans forward and kisses him gently before he slides his hands down to his waist, pulling him closer as Troy entwines his fingers with Abed’s hair. 

He startles when Abed grabs his legs, pulling at his thighs until he lifts Troy up, and Troy lets out a surprised “ _Oh!_ ” accidentally tightening his grip in Abed’s hair and pulling.

“Sorry,” Troy says breathlessly, releasing his hair and pressing his palms to Abed’s neck as Abed turns and kneels on the bed, placing Troy under him. Abed doesn’t respond, just lets go of Troy’s legs and lifts himself high enough to lean down and kiss him, framing Troy’s head with his forearms against the bed. Troy’s legs wrap around Abed’s waist. Troy can feel Abed smiling against his mouth (and then against his cheek and jaw and neck and throat and collarbone).

\---

Troy falls asleep with his fingers in Abed’s hair, with Abed’s head tucked in the crook of his neck, feeling the slow pattern of his breaths, warm and familiar, against his skin. Their legs are tangled beneath the blankets, and Abed’s hand slipped under Troy’s pyjama shirt as he started falling asleep, his fingertips and nails lightly brushing over his skin until they stopped, pressed against him.

His lips still feel raw from the feeling of Abed’s teeth against them, his neck still tingles, and his eyes are burning again. 

He just lifts a hand from Abed’s arm and wipes his eyes, trying not to wake Abed up, smiling at the ceiling.


End file.
